Sheltered by a precious family

We were feasted by Dadou's family --and I could relax with his wife and five children and his mother, 96, who sat crossed-legs on a carpet in her white hadjib.  The children had to speak in her ear to invite her to sit in the chair for dinner, served on a low coffee table in front of the sofa.  They all giggled at her gruff response.  They clearly adored her.

Of course the men were in the large formal parlor trading stories in Arabic with each other and the visiting police chief.  I was fully welcome to join them, and I greeted everyone warmly, but I much preferred the company in the other room, not least of which the mom came from Maine and reminded me of my daughter Jess so much.  It's not just her lovely face and hospitality -- but someone who'd married an Algerian and was completely immersed in the life.  She's home schooling her children with much help from internet resources.  The older daughter, was involved in the school newspaper, and the oldest son interviewed us for a project. 

We were given his room, which he prepared for us by removing most of his many bird cages.  He left a nesting pair and asked us to take the cover off one in the morning.

Here's the view of Ain Sefra from his window in the morning light.

It's especially quiet because it's Saturday, their Sabbath, and all the stores are closed.  When I tiptoed out from our room, everyone was up and dressed, and the kitchen busy with breakfast preparations.  Dadou sat in a comfortable chair near the kitchen door reading aloud from the Koran.  The older son paused, wiping a dish clean, listening to him.

Our big outing in the morning is to climb the sand dunes, and everyone piles into the SUV, even the grandmother.

The Sahara dunes -- behind our former hotel.

This picture of the children says it all.  The older son is with the men, the older daughter is keeping the grandmother company.  "I've been here lots of times before, and she doesn't like to be by herself."

Ain Sefra from the dunes.

 It's an interesting life.  In summer there are sandstorms that they have to take shelter from. But no one is bored.

These children play with each other, support each other, respect each other, delight in each other's interests and gifts and take responsibility for each other and their greater family. They love the land. It's a wealthy family to all appearances, but everyone turns off light switches before leaving a room and help with the dishes. The boy is known for his banana bread. The elder girl chooses to wear hajib and is mindful of everyone.  The middle girl rejoices in running down dunes, running free. They're not cut off from the world -- no one is.  Even the grandma loves her tv, and the children work the internet and hand her the laptop so she can enjoy her cartoons.  "Spirit" about a horse in the wild west, is her favorite, and they all giggle to see how it pleases her, even though she speaks only Arabic.  The little toddler is settled down with children's music videos and she sits bouncing in one lap or another, enraptured by the images, mouthing the words. When she stands before them, dancing, they all clap. The mom cooked a five course meal for 15 without complaint, and is as concerned for the younger son's carrot plants as she is for the older one's birds.  Everyone is fluent in two languages.  Joy lives among them.

Some school boys visiting the dunes.  I heard them say, "Americano!"  I waved back and said, "Yes! New York."  Then one of them held up both hands and shouted, "Welcome!" They laughed and went on, but were there watching with curiosity as we piled into the cars later.  Maybe it was my camera.  Maybe a grown woman wearing jeans (teenagers wear jeans everyday).  Made me wonder.

Then we go visit the house they're building.  The brother is planting carrots, and the little girl is helping.

As we're seeing construction all ove, I thought it was interesting to see how  it's done and the materials and techniques used.

the site of their new kitchen.

new carrots growing.

I asked Djelloul why the second floor was always larger than the first, and he said, "We like the rooms bigger there, and we like the balconies."

 When we get back to their present home, the grandmother's little brother, 92, comes to visit.  The grandmother is upset with him because she wants him to visit with the Americans.  She's a specail lady.  I grew very fond of her.

While the men went off to the mosque to pray, and the little one stayed with her mom, the other children volunteered to go with us to take pictures of the paintings that we loved, painted on the walls of the stores..